


15 Minutes

by minkmix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 09:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkmix/pseuds/minkmix
Summary: Sam finally has a secret and all he wants to do is tell his brother. But before that, Sam's teen head does the Sam thing.





	15 Minutes

There were certain images and words one always pictured when it came down to things like this.

He for one knew that his dream-like disjointed fantasy was probably the last thing that would befall him in actuality. It had been kind of pleasant to ponder though. The when and how. The where and what. The unknown face was hazy and the details of form were indistinct but whoever she was, she would be kind that was for sure. She would be smart. She definitely had to at least be able to beat him in a flippant but somber game of Trivial Pursuit. When it all finally got naked, it would happen at night and somewhere private. He had thought of the sanctity and comforting softness that seemed to compose a female bedroom. There were things he’d say that would make her smile. Her trust in him would be complete.

Sam sighed and zipped up his coat.

Shoving his hands into opposite sleeves, he crossed his legs too in an effort to conserve some warmth. No one up front seemed to think the heat was necessary even though the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees within a few state lines. There was nothing out here and even less after the sun went down and turned the missing scenery into the black absence of anything at all.

Staring out his window, he focused his gaze on the fuzzy pane of glass instead. The dim reflection of his face and shoulders peered back at him with the faint glow from the dash. They had stayed in the last town just about as long as they could before the cops started taking too good a look at their rental on the end of a quiet dead end street. Long enough for Sam to almost reach seventeen and finish a grade in the same county. It had been a decent chunk of time that he had privately hoped could have been a lot longer. Even when he saw his family grow more restless with each new month approaching in the same zip code, he had liked getting to know a place better than its surface. The guy at the 7-Eleven knew his name from going in there for Slurpees just about every day. The old chick with peace sign tattoo at the gas station always asked about his father and his groovy old ride. Kids at school liked him. He went out on weekends and sometimes didn’t come home until the sun had come up.

It was kind of how he had met her. She didn’t go to his high school but one a few towns over. Divorced parents pinged her back and forth between houses. Sam had seen her a few times on Friday afternoons in the school parking lot while everyone talked and buzzed with two days of up coming freedom. They had drank a beer or three at the same haphazard teen assembled parties in the town’s hidden places.

Sitting in a park in broad daylight and shuddering with the quick and startling end into her palm had not been quite what he'd expected.

He chewed at the inside of his lip and let his crossed legs collapse into their natural sprawl. Sam had always thought it was supposed to be some mutual type of thing. When he had tried to attempt to reciprocate she had seemed just about as confused as he was. It had ended awkwardly. A rushed mumbled excuse of somewhere she had to be, and Sam grateful he was in possession of the car so he was able to drop her off as fast as he could. He’d spent an extra hour just driving around and listening to music in some effort of making any sense of it.

Since he could remember he had listened to more stories from his older brother than he knew what to do with. Age had allowed him room to assume some of it was exaggeration. His brother liked to brag about his successes but he liked telling stories even a little bit more. Sam didn’t really begrudge him that. In fact, as his brother got older he realized that as implausible as some of it sounded he thought Dean might actually not be doing much to embellish the exploits at all. The good, the bad or the ugly, Sam had grown to realize Dean never edited his experiences for his own sake. There was as much joy in the telling of something cringe worthy as there was in something that would make Sam jealous. He sometimes lingered on certain details that had seemed important to his older brother enough to recall and even regale. Sam wondered why those same things didn’t seem to bring out the same easy confidence. When he caught sight of the bright smile, the swell of a chest and that whisk of pure girl all he got was stupid.

The car glided to a halt and the driver’s side swung open.

Sam watched his father pull open the rest stop glass door and head right for the coffee machine. Surprised as to why he hadn’t been sent instead he realized his long silence had probably led his father to believe he was sleeping. Yawning, Sam rubbed his blurry eyes and wondered exactly why he wasn’t. The old man hadn’t sent Dean in there either which meant this included a bathroom break or his brother was dozing off too. Sitting up for an easy check, Sam saw it was the latter. Glancing back at the lit insides of the shop, he considered how many fleeting minutes of privacy they might actually have.

There was no way in hell he was going to tell his brother how he got his first hand job. But Sam wanted to tell someone something. He felt like he’d turned some kind of lame corner. It felt like he finally had something he could tell his brother in the face of the long list of hair colors, length of leg and the mysterious mediocre names. Dean was never reluctant to talk about his failures, so why should he?

“Hey, Dean?”

His brother didn’t move from his slump against the window but he turned out to be slightly alert if not completely awake.

“Hm.”

“Ya know that girl I went out with yesterday?”

He didn’t have to remind anyone about it. Sam had made a huge loud deal about taking the car out from under his family’s hands. He was pretty sure they had both counted the minutes until it was parked back in front of the house.

Dean shifted, comprehending that this conversation was something more than another request for the heater or to move the seat. Sam suddenly didn’t know what to say next. Frowning at the wave of frustration at his own lack of articulation, he made a fist. Bouncing it a few times on his knee, he hoped maybe Dean would ask just the right question that would allow him to magically get out what he had to say without looking like he felt.

Why did something so simple leave so many questions anyway? Sam just wanted nothing more than to be able to be like his brother and eliminate them. Just do it and do it again and feel good with nothing hanging or lingering afterward but the glory in the telling of it. But all he had were corny song lyrics in his head and the feel of long brown hair in his hands. A total of almost fifteen minutes with a girl and suddenly every sappy tune he heard on the radio seemed to apply to him.

“You slept with her.”

Dean said it like it was some already fact.

“No.” Sam felt himself smile around the word, the entire thing turning the corner he wasn’t really sure was there. The traces of uncertain shame he was holding onto evaporated with the easiness he heard in the words. With a sigh of relief, he knew the only person this shit was earth shattering to was himself. “Not really.”

He saw his brother’s shoulders rise and fall with a brief exhale of amusement.

“Nice.” Dean answered without turning around.

It was pretty miraculous what one sleepy, half-awake validation from an older brother's lips could do to the moral self-esteem of a sixteen year old kid.

Sam sat back as the car door creaked open and his father slid back in with a steaming cup. Dean cleared his throat to end the exchange and somehow convey that it could be continued at another time if that was what Sam wanted. Pulling his jacket over a shoulder like a blanket, Dean got comfortable once again against the passenger door. After a short renewed acquaintance with the creased map, the engine turned and they were already pulling out into the scarce early morning traffic. Settling back against the well worn springs, Sam’s small smile hadn’t really gone away. Not completely.

He thought about how green her eyes had been with all that sun. He thought about how he didn’t want to say no when she had blown his mind by touching him delicately over the fly of his jeans.

Dean was right.

It was pretty nice.


End file.
